Current Situation

Nowhere near as much fun as it sounds...

I’m stretched out on the table, arms over my head, knees bent, breathing deeply and just trying to relax.  Eyes closed, I’m just waiting for the party to start.  The first few notes come through the headphones and without any delay or foreplay of any kind. They cut right to the chase, at maximum volume. 

You don’t own me.

I’m not just one of your many toys.

You don’t own me.

BANG BANG BANG

Don’t say I can’t go with other boys.

The music is unexpected and absolutely sublime.  Transcendent and sharp even, straight from her lips to my ears.  It makes the hair on the back of my neck fluff up just a little.  I can’t believe that the MRI machine is even attempting to get in at me, trying to go around the mighty, smoky, defiant voice of Lesley Gore.  Worse yet, I can’t believe it’s actually on the verge of succeeding - but I’m determined to not let that happen, not today. 

And don’t tell me what to do.

BANG BANG BANG

Don’t tell me what to say.

And please when I go out with you

Don’t put me on display.

I’ve had more than a dozen of these scans.  My doctor tells me that we’ve got to check in on the status of the two cancerous tumors currently residing in my abdomen with a certain amount of regularity.  He says that we need to “make sure that they’re still considered stable”.  That they’re not increasing or on the move.  I say it’s to tell them to go fuck themselves, to just remind them that we’re still watching them.  For me, it’s a chance to remind those persistent little creeps that they are not welcome here.  That I can absolutely feel the feathers of angels’ wings when I’m in here, protecting me, giving me shelter.  That I am the daughter of John and Catherine, sister of Peggy, Jack and Lars, that I am the wife of David. 

This music is not my usual jam, but I can’t think of a more appropriate set for today.  With the Ronettes and The Crystals riding shotgun, I feel like I’m bringing a gun to a knife fight.  I certainly know that I’m not untouchable or invincible.  I’ve got the scars to vouch for the scuffles.  I just feel like me and the girls are telling cancer that, while it may be taking certain liberties with me at the moment, it doesn’t own me.  I can have cancer but cancer absolutely cannot have me. 

The playlist is mostly all girl groups, all singing their hearts out, sounding so strong and so vulnerable.  It’s all us tough girls, interrupted every now and again by the banging of the machine, by the sound of my heart pounding, by my quiet whispering incantation that cancer will get no safe haven here.  Move it along, there’s nothing to see here.  I’d like to say that the scan itself is over before I know it, but that’d definitely be a lie.  It feels like I was extruded into that giant metal tube yesterday.  I pass the time wondering if the camera sees any more cancer, wondering if it can it see the music.  Can it tell that I’m whispering and singing just a wee little bit while it invades my privacy in the most intimate way possible?  I know that it sees nothing but the facts, but I do wonder, just a bit. 

Four hours later and the results are in.  There’s been a small increase in the size of both masses, but my oncology team will get after it right away.  Change up the chemo and get after it.  Again.    

For the next scan I’ll be asking for a Sinatra mix and we’ll see how that goes. 

Watch this space for updates - Me and Old Blue Eyes will keep you posted.